In The Middle
by Skylark Evanson
Summary: A week lapsed between "Failsafe" and "Disordered". A few snippets of scenes missed between episodes.


**A/N: So yesterday morning, I had a sudden realization. What is the lapse between "Failsafe" and "Disordered"? A WEEK! We're missing A WHOLE WEEK of epic emotional moments! I mean, come on, they're just begging to be written. So here's what went on in that lost week.**

**Sidenote: Slight Supermartian and a bit of Spitfire. Otherwise, mostly team/friend fluff (light).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. At all. Seriously.**

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><p><span>In the Middle<span>

The cookies never tasted right. The way they all walked in and gave her the quiet waves and murmured their usual "Hey, Megan"s left her with a distinctly disgusting taste in her mouth. They wouldn't blame her for anything. They wouldn't. They were all too kind.

She'd killed them all. She'd killed them. Megan couldn't let that go. How could she? She'd let them all fall.

Artemis had been taken first. Megan couldn't let go of that. The immediate shock, the pain, the way it had seemed like someone had stabbed her with a knife and wouldn't pull it out until she was dead.

Kaldur was not as painful as everyone else. She hadn't grown quite so attached to him as she had the others. All the same, a little piece of her heart had been ripped away. And the numbness began.

Losing Conner was like losing herself. She thought she would die right there. His mind was no longer in the link. The immediate rip of them being torn apart, two attached hearts, was enough to make her wish she could be killed right there. If everything would just end…

It wasn't the worst when Kid Flash and Robin were gone. It was just another little piece of her heart. Conner had already made her numb. She would never stop feeling guilty that she had let them die, but Conner had brought on the ultimate pain. Kid Flash and Robin's deaths were just more needle pricks on her skin.

But she made another batch of cookies. She had to soldier on. For the team.

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><p>He couldn't hide in the cave anymore. It wasn't good enough. There was too much going on, too much to look at, too much to remember losing.<p>

The autumn air was warm, wreathing around him as he ran. Superspeed was great to get around with, terrible when he just needed to get away from it all. Too fast and he was right back where he started. There was no such thing as too slow.

So he would run for a few blocks, back and forth, back and forth. It was almost reassuring. And when he was bored with that block of the street, he would turn around and do different block, watching the people walk around, wondering if they were aware that most of them had died in another reality.

Uncle Barry had died in another reality.

It stung. He wasn't sure how he'd been so detached to that. It was just the fact that he knew Barry wasn't really dead. But being so immune to it all.

And he'd seen Aunt Iris… He could only figure she had died in another reality just the same.

Wally felt a thought strike him. Had Uncle Barry told her anything? He hoped to God that his uncle hadn't. If Iris knew… She didn't need to know.

All in a day's run. The leaves beneath his feet, the wind through his reddish hair, the feel of his body streaking through the city. That was all he needed to cool down.

Too bad Happy Harbor wasn't big enough for all the cooling down he needed to do.

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><p>"I'm sorry for letting the team down." Most of the team had cookies in hand, eating them in a stoned silence, numb to the world around them. Robin had been in the training room, staring into the mirror, wondering what he was going to do with his life now that he'd screwed everything up for himself.<p>

No one said anything.

For a long moment, he couldn't decide whether they just didn't know what to say or if they would let him take the blame. So he continued softly, "I should've sacrificed myself before Superboy. Maybe we would've won the scenario that way. Maybe we-"

He was cut off as Superboy's massive, muscular arms wrapped around him from one side. Robin went quiet very quickly and just leaned against Superboy, feeling better than he had in a long time.

The others closed in quickly, a group hug the obvious necessity with a broken little bird on their hands.

But nobody said a word.

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><p>Faster. Stronger. Harder. Ready. Set. Go.<p>

An arrow was released from the bow, flying into the night air. Another one was nocked almost immediately and she released it, hitting the same spot.

She had to be faster. She couldn't be slow. Not again. Not after all the trauma she'd caused the team. Dying wasn't an option. That was only a scenario.

What about the real world? If any of that had happened in the real world, everything would've fallen apart in a heartbeat. She could only imagine how everything would be exploding in the background as her teammates huddled around her broken, mangled body…

Such bad visions. A pained smirk lit up her features as another arrow was released into the open air. It splashed down into the water below, the silver tip catching the light of the full moon as it shone overhead. It was almost funny how she could imagine her own death so easily. She'd seen it plenty of times before. She knew what the brink of death felt like.

Now she knew what death felt like. A canyon opened up in her chest, an emptiness that would be undeniable.

Another arrow shot into the night, splashing down into the cobalt-colored water.

She wouldn't let it happen again. She would be faster, stronger, ready for anything. She wouldn't die. Not again. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not again. Not with this team.

Another splash. Another arrow gone.

Artemis felt the loneliness of the world around her. And it felt good. She nocked another arrow and let it loose.

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><p>"Hey," came Wally's voice from just outside of Kaldur's view. The Atlantean looked up to see the redhead standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets. Or at least one hand. The other, the one still wrapped tight in a cast, had a finger locked in a belt hoop.<p>

The dark-skinned teen shut his book quietly and gave the ginger his undivided attention.

"I never got to tell you…" He seemed to grimace. The eye contact he had held only a moment ago was gone. Wally's green gaze drifted away from the leader almost immediately. "I missed you. When you were dead." His head tilted to one side gently, and he swallowed hard. "I guess I never appreciated you as our leader until… until you died."

Kaldur gave a soft smile, a bit more confident in his abilities to keep control over his comrades, his partners in crime. He nodded to Wally, his silent thank you.

Turning to leave, Wally gave a quiet "Yeah" before moving to retreat from his little confessional moment. He felt naked without his confident air and his all-too-present slacker side. At that last moment, he turned again to look back at his friend. "And Kal?"

He still hadn't opened his book. His fingers were running over the letters engraved on the cover. Silver eyes flitted back up to the speedster almost expectantly.

"Please don't die again."

A faint smile kissed Kaldur'ahm's naturally calm features, his eyes going soft like gently rolling waves on the ocean. "I shall try not to." That was a promise not only to Wally, but also to himself. Reassuring his young teammate was all too necessary.

Again, Wally turned away, heading out for a run. He needed to clear his head again.

It was the fourth time that day.

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><p>He held her so tightly that the fear of crushing her was sinking into the pit of his stomach. He just didn't want to let go. All the moments alone in the cave were only making things worse. He always wanted to get out, but he could never leave her to herself.<p>

M'gann was just too fragile to be left on her own. And she was just as fragile to hold. There was no happy medium for the clone. His blue eyes always had to remain closed so he could focus on not crushing her. The strength he bore was more of a curse than a power. He could crush her. He was the walking target.

That was why he'd been sacrificed. He was the walking target. He was the strength, the brawn, the stupidity. Some part of him always had wondered if he was just used as the living pawn, the stick a child would use to poke the lion in its cage. He was nothing without that damn symbol on his chest.

Her sobs always shook him out of his self-loathing state. He would just hold her, focusing on not crushing her, focusing on this pleasure at being Superman, even if just for a few moments, trying to remember how much it hurt to wake up and realize that he was never going to be the Man of Steel.

She kept crying in his arms.

Why did it always have to be this way? Why was he the victim? What made that Big Blue butthead think he was more than his clone was? What was age but a number? Skill was the only thing that separated boy from man. And if Superman would just teach him, all of the problems of heart and mind would just dissipate.

"Thank you, Conner." Her words were mumbled and shaky as she pulled out of his warm embrace. He would open his own eyes to find her brown ones glazed over with glassy tears.

He would nod, still wrapped up in his own thoughts. He was at peace; it sickened him.

And it was all because of Superman.

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><p>The cape rubbed between his fingers, soft as silk and yet so painful to hold.<p>

The identity crisis was too much to bear.

His whole life had been planned out. Robin to Batman, that was that. Robin then Batman, no middle ground. There was never a problem before. There was never an issue, never a hesitation.

Now he was wondering what he'd done wrong to be so confused. His heart was twisted up in knots, his stomach always churning with the sickness of sacrificing Conner, of watching Artemis die, of losing Kaldur and being forced to take his place. That was the way this sick, sardonic world worked.

He ripped the mask off his face and threw it on the ground. The locker room was empty; he was glad. An emotional moment in front of his teammates would make him even less like Batman. Batman was too good to be emotional.

His chest seemed to collapse for a moment, pain stabbing through his body. His own father. He was drifting away from the destiny his father had laid out for him. He was drifting away from Bruce, away from Batman, like a boat lost at sea with not even the stars to guide him home.

Robin would never be Batman. Dick Grayson would never be Batman. He couldn't do it. The sacrifice was too much. He felt like a monster. He felt like a killer. He'd left his friend to die. _Die_.

He'd seen people die before. He'd never wanted to see it again.

In a single day, he'd watched Artemis and Conner die and lost Kaldur just the same. Then KF by his side…

He stomped on the mask. No. He didn't want to be Batman. He would never sacrifice anyone.

Never.

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><p>There had always been a certain weakness in her heart. She always felt this emptiness inside of her, losing everything. Losing her mind, losing her hopes and dreams, losing her faith. She'd grown accustomed to losing the things she loved.<p>

Yet her own life…

Without realizing the error of her ways, she let herself fall to one side, just needing to be able to relax for a moment. Some part of her had snapped at the thought of comatose. She'd been pegged as the weakest now. She was the most human. Robin at least had armor and had more training. She'd been raised as an assassin, and yet she was the first to die. The stupidity of it… The hatred that boiled up inside of her was enough to make her want to go insane. She just wished she'd been able to save herself.

And maybe Robin wouldn't have had to sacrifice Conner. And maybe Kaldur would've lived. And maybe she would've been able to help stop the invasion, and maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't have gotten trapped in the scenario.

It was all her fault.

A hand reached down over the back of the couch and ruffled her hair, loose from its usual tight ponytail. "You okay?" asked Wally, voice slightly rough from the cold autumn air he'd just been out in. A knit cap was still covering his shock of ginger hair.

Tilting her head to the side slightly to look up into his worried eyes, she gave a gentle "Yeah". Somehow, his touch was reassuring. She wasn't alone. She would never be alone again. She had a new family. These people cared enough to be traumatized after her death. If that wasn't love, she didn't know what was.

"Just tell me if you need anything." He sounded sincere. Since the scenario, he'd been quieter, much more relaxed around her. She knew he spent most of his time with Robin now, trying to steer clear of her, but when it came to moments with just the two of them alone, he tried to be on his best behavior; she could see it in his glowing green gaze. Wally's dry hand mussed up her hair for a heartbeat longer before he headed off towards the kitchen.

Artemis heard the shifting of the cookie jar across the counter. She hugged her arms around her body.

So this is what a real family felt like… She had never known the feeling. Until now.

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><p>The burden lay strapped to his shoulders. Where to leave it was not the question. He knew where to lay the burden down when his time came.<p>

It was when to finally put down his load that was the trouble.

Out of six, two choices stood for the Atlantean. Himself or a little bird.

But the bird was so, so small…

It was a question of time. When was he old enough? When was he strong enough? When would this weight be transferred from the elder to the younger?

Kaldur could do nothing but bear the guilt as he would. A brave face, a grimace in the darkness, and the strength of a barracuda was all he had to offer to this team. The burden would remain on him until the bird was willing to take such a load as was responsibility.

And sacrifice.

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><p>"Thank you."<p>

Wally turned, emerald orbs finding a small, slight form in the doorway to the training room. He was about to ask a question when he saw the small form rushing at him, arms out.

He could only accept the hug as the small raven-haired boy wrapped his lanky arms around the boy he could only consider as a brother. Richard never wanted to let go. After what had happened, even though it was only a shock to his mental system, he still needed to hold onto something. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He would always hold onto something because letting go meant losing it.

Wally managed to pull one arm out of the death grip and wrap it around the acrobat's slight but well-muscled frame. "For what?" he asked gently, knowing what it was to upset the kid. He would never press those buttons.

"For not leaving me behind."

Because in the few seconds they had before dying, Wally could've at least tried to vibrate through the walls and get out. He hadn't done that. He hadn't even left his best friend for a moment. In their final seconds, Wally was holding onto Robin, knowing that was all the kid needed. They were staring Death in the face, challenge in their eyes, and neither would back down. They lost the battle, but they'd lost it together.

And Wally hadn't left Robin behind.

The ginger just held onto his friend for a long moment, lost in a snapshot of time. This was what best friends were for.

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><p><strong>AN: Well, two days of work later, it's finally finished. I know certain characters appear more than others, but refraining from that was hard. Wally is so much easier to use than Kaldur or Conner, ya know?**

**Anyways, a review would be nice. Thanks for reading.**

**~Sky**


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